


The End of Me

by Leider_ss



Category: The End of the Tour
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:06:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6201913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leider_ss/pseuds/Leider_ss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a quote from David Foster Wallace in the movie, “I don’t think that we ever change. I’m sure that I still have those same parts of me. Guess I’m trying really hard to find a way not to let them drive.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing is true in this fiction. The character is half David Foster Wallace as depicted in the movie, and half me. I disown everything.

Dave said that he’s never tried heroine. That is the truth. But the reason he gave David for writing about heroine experiences in his books, that those were just metaphors? It was total bullshit, and he meant for it to be that way. The real reason it was there is because he often imagines using heroine, not so often now as he did five years ago though, to get away from his head, to get away from certain parts of himself. He imagines it to be more effective than alcohol, or television.

And then he pushes that thought out of his head. No, do not attempt to get away from yourself. You know it doesn’t get you anywhere. You will still have to face the reality at some point. Face it now.

Yet it is not easy, sometimes, even now, to function. The things that people want don’t apply for him. He doesn’t want fame (done it and knew it), nor money, nor can he actually get into a relationship with someone else. These goals, desires, and addictions, have fleeted away from him, or he wanted it to be so for fear of worse consequences. Some part in him always believes that there is no reason to live. Some part of him always needs suicide watch.

He told Dave that he never tried any of those dangerous ways of living. That was also true. The closest thing he tried was skiing at 18, which is not supposed to be dangerous at all but he made it dangerous for himself. He’s never done skiing before, but he was a sportsman and a quick learner, so after an hour on the bunny slope he went straight for the blue trail, and he made it, and then he went to the black trail. He took a fall in the middle, but he got himself up and made it as well. He did it again and again, enjoying the fear and danger, but then at some point, he looked at the snow mountain and thought to himself, “this is so beautiful. I wish I could die here. Actually, why don’t I die here right now?” 

The idea horrified him. He tried hard and pulled up some happy memory with family, some Schopenhauer excerpts, some emotional, religious wishes, desires, wants, grand plans for the future, everything he could find that he cared about, to say “no”, but he could not. For the rest of the day before the mountain closed he believed that it was a great idea to die on that snow mountain, and at the same time tried hard to get himself to stop that thought, as he skied down the black trail, again and again. 

He always knew that there’s something wrong about him, but it was then that he first realized this something-wrong was rooted in him, in his unconscious maybe, but he could not get it out of his head. 

He never went skiing again. 

He would never try those dangerous ways of living not because he was afraid of the danger, but because he always knew he would enjoy it too much, so much that he would want to die then and there.

Of course he would not allow himself to do it. Nobody wants to die. It’s called the survival instinct. The alternative is awful, but he has to find out some reason to live. He has to make himself function again, trying whatever kind of ways it take to live, including religions, people, drugs, alternative lifestyles, each of them taken to their conclusions. 

After having exhausted a couple other ways to live and finding the will to die exceedingly strong, he committed himself to the pink room with a drain in the center of the floor. That’s where he became tremendously, unprecedentedly willing to examine some other alternatives for how to live. And then after some time, he became who he is now.

It’s nothing fancy.

As he’s told David himself, he got a real, certain fear, of becoming a certain way. A real set of faith about why he’s continuing to do this, why it’s worthwhile. The reason for all these is simple. He must function. He simply does not ever, ever want to commit himself to that pink room again.

Because he knew that he still had that same part in him, all along.

“I don’t think that we ever change. I’m sure that I still have those same parts of me. Guess I’m trying really hard to find a way not to let them drive.”

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh I really shouldn't be thinking about this. My brain feels sick again. I thought I should be over it. But anyway. I just want to write it out to remind myself of certain things that could be dangerous. Off I go to muscle movies!


End file.
